Happy Saint Patrick's Day
by Tahri Veila
Summary: For all my readers: The Mellarks Celebrate Saint Patrick's Day. One shot into the life of Katniss post-Mockingjay. Happy Saint Patrick's Day! Love, Tahri Veila


**Hello my lovely Readers! Sorry this is a day late for St. Patrick's Day, but here is a short one shot about the Mellark family celebrating St. Patrick's day. A little bit of Katniss/Peeta fluff. Better than never! From now on, every holiday I will write a one shot about how Katniss' family celebrates it. Hope you enjoy, and Happy Saint Patrick's Day!**

**tahri**

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"Mommy! Mommy! Wake up! It's Saint Pateriss Day!" Is the noise that rings through my head as I pull the pillow over my head some more. I had been up till 2 last night when Peeta had another incident.

"I'm tired. Go away." I say groggily and struggle fall under sleep's spell again, to block out the noise. I feel little forms jumping on top of me. A girl's giggle keeps ringing within my mind and I finally sit up. No hope of me falling asleep again. With the nightmares.

The sunlight streaming in burns my eyes for a second and I have to squint to keep them open. A little form jumps on top of me and circles his arms around my neck.

I sit myself up and glance to my side and see that the clock my mother brought last year blinks 7:10.

"Kids, Kids. It's still early for Sunday. This is mommy and daddy's time to sleep in." I tell my two children who sit with beaming smiles on top of me and Peeta's large king bed.

Willow giggles and snuggles next to me. I stroke her golden hair lovingly and open my arms for Rye to jump into the embrace.

I watch my kids fight over who gets to sit where on the bed and know that I made the right decision in having my two bundles of joy. Peeta had begged me for a few years and I finally consented. I never realized how empty life had been without them. Of course, I had Peeta. And I loved him as much as ever. But having kids brought us even closer together than I could have ever imagined.

"Where's your da—" I begin to say when I hear the slight snore of a man next to me. I shake my head. Peeta could sleep through an earthquake. The only thing that seemed to wake him up was when I screamed in distress his name. It must have brought back our times in the—the—. Peeta and I didn't like to talk about the old days, over 12 years ago. I was 28 now, and so much has changed for us. For one, there was no more Hunger Games. President Paylor was now in charge, and life was much easier than the old days with Prim, Mom, and Gale. It brought up so many memories with the death of my little sister. I still was torn over the fact that she had an entire life ahead of her. I spearheaded a rebellion, went into the Hunger Games twice, and yet, Prim died and I did not.

"Mommy! Mommy! Rye and I were out picking clovers with Clover 'cause we ran into Uncle Haymitch. He told us today was Saint Patteriss day. And he said to tell you and daddy." Willow, my brunette 9 year old daughter says with a grin.

"Clover scratched me though." Rye, my 4 year old blond son says with a whimper and a spiteful look towards our calico cat, Clover. She hisses in response and whips her paw threateningly. Rye and Clover hated each other, but Willow and Clover, you could never separate. It was a familiar situation. I chuckle and look sadly out the window towards the little grave we had made for Buttercup when he died. Peeta and I knew Prim would have wanted us to do it.

"Alright! Alright. Everyone out while mom gets dressed. Willow, dear, start helping your brother make his bed." I order them and Willow frowns but grabs her little brother hand and hurries out of my room, Rye in tow.

I hop out of bed and silently enter my closet and change into a green blouse and green pants. Might as well get into the spirit.

I finish getting dressed and hurry into the bathroom. As I close the door, I see Peeta starting to stir.

I hastily brush my long brown hair into its signature look and I wash my face with water. I stare at my reflection and I realize my face hasn't changed much at all, really. All that's different is that my cheeks aren't as plump as they used to be, and if I furrow my brows, I have lots of wrinkles. But if I don't frown my face looks pretty much how I looked a few years ago.

I turn the lock and press the off switch on the lights. I walk out into our room and I see Peeta is already dressed, and is making the bed.

"Someone woke up early." He says with a grin. That same grin he had 12 years ago. Peeta really hadn't changed at all. I mean, even Haymitch, who is the most critical person ever has to admit the age hasn't done much to Peeta. Physically at least. Mentally… that was debatable.

I roll my eyes and move to the side of the bed to help him. "Dear old Haymitch has gone and told our kids about some 'Saint Patteriss Day'. Got them all riveted up. How did you not wake up, Peeta? They were pretty loud." I tell him with a small smile as we plump the pillows.

He laughs. "I'm heavy sleeper, Katniss. You know that better than anyone. Now, do you mean Saint Patrick's Day?"

I shrug my shoulders. "That's probably it. You know Willow. She can't listen to words very well." I say with a head shake as we pull and straighten out the white sheet.

Peeta nods in agreement. In silence, we finish making the bed and I move over to the windows to open the curtains.

Peeta comes from behind me and pulls me into a tight embrace. "Thanks for helping me last night Katniss. It was one of the worst in months." He says into my ear and I move my head to give him a peck on the nose.

"I'm always here for you Peeta. Just like you were, and are, for me. I still don't know what I did to deserve you." I tell him as I finish parting the blinds and he chuckles.

"No, I don't know what I did to deserve you." He says, pulling me into a kiss. I smile against his lips and put my hands on his chest.

"We both got lucky, I guess." I say against his lips and he laughs. The kiss lasts a bit longer, but I halt it with a small push on his chest.

"Come on, Romeo. Your kids are down there probably destroying the house and thanks to Haymitch we have to celebrate St. Patrick's Day." I tell him and gently tap his nose.

I twist past him and his laughs again. "You still have your skills I see." He says as he grabs his green jacket, sensing the mood I was trying to get the house in.

"I never lost them, Mellark. You, on the hand, might need to lay off the dough. Bakers aren't known for their agility." I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room.

We hurry out down the second story of our Victor's Village mansion. The winding staircase opens into the family room. It is an airy room that we designed to look like a beach house.

On the right hand corner is a long countertop which opens into the kitchen. I hurry over there, moving soundlessly along the squeaky; something I picked up while hunting, years ago. A skill I never lost.

The kids weren't there and there was no more noise in the house. I sigh. They must've sneaked out again.

"Peeta, go ahead and start cooking. Something that is St. Patrick's Day, like. I'll get the kids." I tell him and head towards the front door, grabbing my father's jacket off its hook.

"Alright, it should be ready in an hour or so." Peeta says, his voice fading out as he ventures deeper into the kitchen."

I head outside and stop, seeing the kids sprawled across the grass with Clover. They are bouncing the ball. Some sort of Monkey-In-The- Middle. Or cat in the middle I should say.

"Willow. Rye. I need you two to ask me or daddy when heading outside, understood?" I tell my kids sternly. Lately they had been bending my rules, causing panic for me and Peeta.

Willow sits up, pulling her kitten on to her lap. "Sorry, mommy. I just didn't want Clover and Rye to be mad at each other." She says sincerely and Rye bobs his blond head.

I put my hands on my hips. "We've tried therapy with them already. It didn't work. Now come along. I need you guys to dress in green. Then you can head next door and ask Uncle Haymitch to come."

* * *

"This is delicious daddy." Willow says, digging into her salad. "I love this much better than breakfast."

I look sharply at Willow. "This is a onetime ticket for Saint Patrick's Day. Don't think you're going to be getting out of breakfast." I say and Peeta, Rye, and Willow exchange a look.

Haymitch speaks up. "No offense, sweetheart. But you're food stinks." He says rather bluntly and pulls out his glass flask.

"No it does not! And Haymitch! I said not in front of the children." I tell him, looking angrily at his bottle of what I suspected was White Liquor.

Haymitch lifts his bottle up. "This is water, thank you very much." HE says smugly and takes a large drink of it.

"Well, I like Da-Da's cooking better, than Ma-Ma's." Rye says with a dimpled smile. I throw my hands up in defeat.

"Fine, Fine. Mr. Mellark, you're in charge of meals from now on. Since all of you seem to have been secretly hating my food." I say and begin to slice up my corned beef.

Everyone is silent as we focus on eating, but Peeta speaks up, like the good father he is. "Hey kids, you know who Saint Patrick was?"

Willow and Rye shake their heads 'no'. For the sake of the kids, I shake y head good naturally 'no' as well.

Peeta begins his tale. "Long ago, in a place called Ireland, way, way, way before Panem even existed."

He tells the tale of the snakes, religion, and of course, Saint Patrick. "We all wear green, because Ireland was a very green country." Peeta finishes.

"And it's an excuse for us all to get drunk." Haymitch butts in and Peeta and I both give him a harsh look.

Willow giggles. Rye joins in to, though he was too little to even know what Haymitch meant. Peeta and I exchange an eye roll.

"Did you and daddy celebrate Saint Patrick's Day?" Willow asks politely, obviously attempting to make civil conversation.

I look to Peeta. He nods. "I'll tell you guys my story of a Saint Patrick's Day." Peeta says with a smile, and he wipes his mouth with his napkin.

"I was 12 I think. And I was decorating the cakes in the front of the bakery. All green, with shamrocks. I remember money was low at that time, and no one really bought anything. So for the next few weeks we ate green pastries. Our tummies must have been completely green inside." Peeta says with a chuckle and Rye and Willow giggle.

"That was the worst story I ever heard, Mellark." Haymitch says with another sip of his 'water'. Yeah, that was not water. But I couldn't say something in front of the kids.

Peeta frowns at Haymitch. "Tell a better one, then." He challenges him and all eyes fall on Haymitch.

"Sure, I'll tell you all one. Every St. Patty's day, I get super drunk, and do really cool things, but never can remember them bec—"

"HAYMITCH!" Peeta and I yell at him and he falls silent with a grumble. Willow looks at Rye and they both giggle.

"I'll tell a story. Every Saint Patrick's Day, I would take Gale's family and…Prim… into the woods and we would have a competition for the greenest person. You could only use things from nature. Leaves were common, though one year Rory covered himself in green berry juice and won. After the Green Competition, we would play a game called Guess Who. We would sit in a circle, and we would choose one person to be a leprechaun. The leprechaun would stand in the middle. We would take a berry, and everyone in the circle would pass it behind their backs to other people without drawing attention. You could also pretend you were passing it to someone for a ruse. The leprechaun had to say stop, and then guess who had the berry at the time. Then we would play in the river and look for 'gold coins' that were really just brunched coral. I remember one year, par Posy's request, we went on an overnight Rainbow hunt, looking for the pot of Gold." I tell them.

"Did you find the pot of gold?" Rye asks curiously, and I shake my head no. "But it didn't matter. We had such fun on those expeditions. It was the journey, not the destination that was the most fun." I tell him and Haymitch laughs.

"Preach!" He cackles, nodding his head up and down with. I shoot him a dirty look and Willow sits up straight.

"Can we do what you and Aunt Prim did mommy? Please! It'd be so much fun." Willow pleads and Peeta looks at me for the okay.

I frown momentarily. The memories would be absolutely horrid. Of Prim, and Gale, and even old Buttercup. But maybe it was time for some new traditions. Some new memories.

"Of course, Willow." I tell her with a smile and she clasps her hands together in delight.

I lift up my glass, which was full of Peeta's Mint Tea Punch. "A toast to new traditions and new memories." I propose to the table and Peeta and Haymitch immediately lift their glasses as well. Peeta gives me a meaningful look.

Willow lifts up her cup as well and Rye looks clueless. As we clink our glasses, Rye claps his hands shouts, "Happy Swaint Pwatick Day to evewy body!"

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**~HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY FROM TAHRI VEILA~**


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